


The Last of the Real Ones

by rawrimmapanda



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Angst, Emotional Abuse, M/M, Mentions of Therapy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-28
Updated: 2017-11-28
Packaged: 2019-02-07 23:34:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12851925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rawrimmapanda/pseuds/rawrimmapanda
Summary: >We’re fighting. Can I crash on your couch?Sam saw the three dots pop up and then stop. He saw them reappear and a quick message pop up.>Again?>Yeah, you can crash here.Sam frowned at his phone. The fact this was a normal occurrence that his teammate had picked up on was telling. He knocked on the door and started to open it, figuring they had warning enough. He saw Caber in his kitchen, putting away leftovers.





	The Last of the Real Ones

**Author's Note:**

  * For [eichart](https://archiveofourown.org/users/eichart/gifts).



> There's been some handwaving because I'm pretty sure they didn't win the game where they were on a line together, but it could just be all the losses stringing together. Also, if mentions of emotional abuse are a problem for you, this is the place to turn around now.

_“I know this whole damn city thinks it needs you, but not as much as I do.”_

Sam could hear the stick slamming against the wall as Jack was throwing things in the spare room. There was only so much losing Jack could take, and that number was about zero games. The fact that the team was on yet another losing skid was taking a toll on him. They had already gone through an entire set of glasses from Jack dropping them in anger while reading the news in the morning. Sam had suggested that he take a break and not read the sports articles, but Jack refused to listen, stating that they’d win that way.

Sam sighed and started to move off the bed. He was comfortable, scrolling through his phone, occasionally playing Animal Crossing. He padded across the room, his pj pants dragging a bit. They were a blue plaid and the bottom hem was a bit worn from him stepping on them and dragging across the floor. They were his favorite pants to wear while lounging around.

He stepped into the hallway and heard Jack yell out in anger. He debated going back into his room, but he wouldn’t be a supportive boyfriend if he did, and that guilt pushed through. He reached out and gently pushed the door open.

 

“What can I do to help?” Sam figured he’d leave the door open for Jack to choose how to react.

 

“Get back on my line. We’d be able to do it all.”

 

Sam sighed. He knew he had no call over the lines. Playing the third line as a center was ok, but he knew things could be better up on the second line with Jack.

 

“Talk to Phil then. I don’t have any pull like you do. I’m just an extra body at this point.”

Jack frowned. He hated when Sam would talk like this. He threw the hat he had in his hands across the room. Sam took that as a hint that nothing he would say to Jack would be enough.

 

“Sammy, I didn’t mean to get angry with you. It’s just too much…” Jack's words trailed after Sam as he went back to the bedroom.

Sam flopped back on the bed. He learned early on that the best way to let Jack get over a loss is to let him be alone. Yet every time, he feels like he should do something. What he wasn’t going to do is be a verbal punching bag because his significant other couldn’t deal with his anger properly. He was close to suggesting that Jack see a therapist to work out his anger issues, but he wasn’t ready for that conversation. He knew if he stuck around for that conversation, it would only get worse. It was a vicious cycle of anger, yelling, snapping at each other, and then sleeping in different beds. They’d both wake up and move on, but it was starting to wear on Sam.

As he rolled over on his back, he heard the door open.

“Are you mad at me?” Sam could hear Jack was remorseful, but it was always the same routine.

 

“No, but we can’t do this after every loss. I don’t deserve this. I need you to be you when we get home. I don’t need you to worry about the city like you do. You can’t save everything alone.”

Sam sat up and looked at Jack and saw that he was glowering. His brow had furrowed a bit and his face was stippled with a deep blush. Sam knew his words cut deep, but maybe a wakeup call would save their relationship.

 

“Ok, you know what? I’m going to just crash at Cabers for the night. I’m not going to be a punching bag. Think about what I said.”

Sam grabbed his overnight bag, phone, and keys. He slammed the door shut and once he was outside, he shot a text to Caber to let him know he was coming over. After the last time he just walked in, he learned to warn him so him and his company were dressed. He saw too much Finnish dick last time and his mind still hasn’t forgotten that sight.

 

_ >We’re fighting. Can I crash on your couch? _

 

Sam saw the three dots pop up and then stop. He saw them reappear and a quick message pop up.

 

_ >Again? _

_ >Yeah, you can crash here. _

 

Sam frowned at his phone. The fact this was a normal occurrence that his teammate had picked up on was telling. He knocked on the door and started to open it, figuring they had warning enough. He saw Caber in his kitchen, putting away leftovers.

 

“How many times do I need to tell you, you don’t have to knock. Just come in.”

Sam shuddered and tossed his bag on the couch.

 

“Not after last time dude. Not after that.”

 

“Fair enough.”

Sam watched wistfully as Caber put the rest of the food away. He looked back at Sam and paused his task at hand.

 

“Want something to eat? I made lasagna.”   


Sam didn’t think he could nod his head any faster. The upside to crashing at Cabers place was always the food. He watched Caber dish up the lasagna and leave the plate on the counter.

 

“You know where the forks are. There’s also chocolate tart in the fridge if you’re into that.”

Sam hopped up off the couch and grabbed the plate and a fork. He started to stuff his face, forgetting about the take out he had hours ago. He scarfed the food down quickly and followed it with a glass of milk. He looked up to see Caber laughing at him.

 

“You have sauce all over your face dude.”

Sam grabbed a paper towel from the roll sitting out on the counter and wiped his face. He smiled and put his plate in the dishwasher after rinsing it off quickly.

 

“It was good. You need to teach me how to make that one of these days.”

 

“Only after you know which knob turns the oven on. I have nightmares still!” Jake started to laugh at Sam’s expense.

 

“One time! You mess up once and no one lets you forget it.” Sam collapsed back on the coucn dramatically, feeling lighter since getting out of his own home.

He felt the couch sink down next to him. He averted his eyes to the hardwood floors, admiring the slight pattern of the planks.

 

“You have to talk to him. This isn’t fair to you.”

Sam sighed, knowing how this will go. This was another familiar routine.

 

“I did this time and he got angry. He didn’t say anything, but he had that look on his face again. I couldn’t argue anymore. I’m afraid I’m going to lose him just because we keep losing as a team.”

The tears started to well up and burst over. Sam looked at Caber, who pulled him into a hug.

 

“Do you two fight like this?” Sam was hoping that what he was going through was normal.

 

“Never. We get frustrated, and his injury has been a strain lately, but we always talk it over.”

Sam gently pushed away from him and grabbed his phone, playing with the case a bit.

 

“I’m getting tired, mind if I just crash now?”  
Caber got up off the couch and grabbed the extra blankets he kept in the closet.

 

“Before you crash, I just wanted to say, it’s not a bad idea for you to see a therapist. One of you should.” 

Sam rolled over and pulled the blanket up.

 

“I’ll think about it.”

 

***

 

When he woke up, all he could smell were pancakes and bacon cooking. Sam remembered that he wasn’t home and rubbed the gunk from his eyes.

 

“There’s orange juice in the fridge. Grab a plate and we’re going to make some calls.”

Fuck. Sam knew what Caber was going on about and wasn’t ready for it first thing in the morning. He reached for the coffee, passing on the orange juice offer. If he had to deal with phone calls, he was going to be as awake as possible.

Caber slid his phone across the counter. Sam could see a list of therapists pulled up, some specializing in couples therapy, some in anger management. Sam picked up the phone and started to scroll, looking for one that did both.

 

“You didn’t have to look all of this up. I could have done it later.” Sam slid the phone back after texting himself a phone number.

 

“But you wouldn’t. That’s why I did it. I want you two to be happy.”

Caber was right but Sam didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of being told that. He reached for his food and quickly ate his breakfast. Thankfully, he had the foresight to grab his overnight bag so he was able to get dressed after breakfast and head to the rink for morning skate. He rode with Caber and Risto, thinking it would offer him some protection when he got to the rink. He was horribly mistaken. Once they got inside, Jack grabbed Sam and pulled him off to an empty room.

 

“What was all of that about last night? You could have stayed and we could have talked” Jack seemed calmer than the night before, but he held Sam's arm tightly. Sam moved his arm and twisted his body away from Jack.

 

“I’m going to call a therapist this afternoon. Do you want to do couples therapy and figure this out or do you want to let this go to shit every time we lose?”

Jack thought about it and nodded his head.

 

“I’ll try this for you. I don’t want to lose you.”

 

***

 

Practice passed with the team sneaking looks at the two, as if to check and see if everything was ok between the couple. Jack and Sam worked together on a line during practice and while the passes were crisp, they were a little too crisp and sharp coming from Jack. Sam knew that what they discussed was weighing on him some. If it meant passes that are as sharp as a knife, then saving the one he loves is worth it.

After shower and media, it was announced that they would play on the same line that night. Before heading back with Caber to grab his things, he texted Jack the number he saved earlier.

 

_ >Call them and set up an appointment. _

 

About 10 minutes later a text popped up on his screen. Sam was hoping it wasn’t Jack backing out.

 

_ >They have one open tomorrow because of a cancellation. _

 

_ >Works for me. _

 

Sam looked up from his phone.

 

“Do you think we need to tell the team we’re going to see a therapist?” Sam figured Caber might know the answer, since he was the de facto rookie handler for them.

 

“It’s not team related, so I wouldn’t worry.”

Caber had a point. This was a personal issue and they already have the whole team staring at them, no sense in adding the front office to do the same.

 

“Yeah, you have a point. We have an appointment set up for tomorrow morning.”

Caber smiled, as if he was a proud dad. He reached over and turned the radio up a little, giving Sam a chance to be with his thoughts.

Therapy was a scary thought, but one that was needed. He was terrified that the therapist would out the two of them. They had worked so hard to keep themselves a secret. They were cautious about intimate touching in public, though they would get into some shenanigans on Instagram here and there, it wasn’t even close to what it was like at the start of the relationship.

“I’m going to just grab my things and go. I see you have company.”

Sam gestured at the black Audi Q7 sitting in Caber’s driveway. He ran inside, waving at Risto as he ran past the SUV, and grabbed his things that he had in the living room. As he was leaving he could see Caber whispering to the Finn and he brushed it off as normal couple things.

He jogged across the road to the house he shared with Jack and slowly opened the door. He could hear Jack making something in the kitchen.

 

“I made extra salmon if you want some?”

Sam smiled. This was typical of Jack. When he knew things were rough, he’d make the only thing he was really good at making. It was a good thing that Sam liked salmon, because that’s probably the only thing that Jack knew how to make.

 

“That sounds good, but don’t get mad if I don’t eat all of it. I had a big breakfast…”

Jack chuckled, knowing what it was like to crash at Caber’s place. He slid a plate across the kitchen island, and Sam sat down on one of the barstools they had there. He tentatively took a bite, remembering the one time that Jack forgot to cook it all the way through.

 

“It’s good, did you do something new?”

 

“Yeah, added lemon like Caber suggested.”

Sam just nodded, his mouth full. He quickly finished up his food, until his stomach started to hurt a bit.

 

“I need to crash. We’ll talk after I nap?”

Jack was pacing around a bit, a little anxious.

 

“Can I nap with you?”

 

“Always. It’s your bed too.”

Sam didn’t want to freeze Jack out. This wasn’t the time for that. He still loved him a lot and a rough patch didn’t mean he wanted to be gone forever.

They both quietly got into their pajamas and slid into the bed. Jack tossed and turned a bit during the nap and Sam slept soundly. When Sam woke up, he found Jack’s side of the bed empty and cold.

He climbed out of bed and walked down to the living room, where he spotted Jack curled up on the couch with an Xbox controller in his hands. Sam gently grabbed the controller and put it on the coffee table. Jack stirred just a bit and Sam could hear his phone going off in the other room.

 

“Shit! His alarm!” Sam sprinted to the bedroom to turn off Jack’s alarm, tripping slightly on the bottom of his pants.

He reached over, grabbed the phone, and slid his finger across the bottom of the phone, turning the alarm off.  Sam pocketed the phone and walked back out to the living room. He saw Jack sitting up, a bit more awake than he was before.

 

“Did you grab my phone?” Jack’s first thought was how he left that in the bedroom, not thinking to grab it when he moved to the couch to sleep.

 

“Yeah. Why are you out here sleeping?” Sam tossed Jack his phone and sat down next to him.

 

“Couldn’t get comfortable and I didn’t want to wake you up.” The tossing and turning got to be too much for Jack, so he just wanted to let Sam sleep so he was fresh for the game.

 

“Mkay. Let’s get ready to go. I have your suit hanging up.”

Jack smiled at the familiarity of the routine. Jack would pick the suit out, Sam would make sure it was ready to go, and they’d leave together.

Sam grabbed his clothes from the closet and threw the suit on, going with a black on black combo. He stepped into the bathroom to comb his hair back and saw Jack messing with his curls. Sam always thought the curls were a never ending battle, but Jack insisted time and time again that he could manage them.

He washed his hands and flicked water at Jack, trying to lighten the mood. Jack giggled and put the comb down.

 

“Ok ok. I’m done.”

Sam shook his head and started to head out the door, grabbing the to-go cup of coffee he had ready to go. Jack followed shortly behind and climbed into the driver's seat.

 

“One day you should drive.” Jack was fiddling with the radio and settled on something that was playing hip-hop.

 

“And take away the fun you have sprinting out of the parking lot after a game? I would never.” Sam grinned, knowing what fun Jack had doing that. It was one of the things he looked forward to every night because he knew that Jack wouldn’t be angry in that moment.

Sam started to think of all the times that he’s been happy next to Jack in the last month and it was hard to come up with more than a few. He was happy right now, but he wasn’t sure how long it would last. If they lost, would he still be happy in a few hours? Sam wasn’t honestly sure. He hoped the therapy appointment would shed some light. He hated being on edge all the time.

They got to the arena and Caber pulled Jack aside to talk to him. A few minutes later, Sam saw Caber trailing Jack as they walked inside. Jack looked determined and Caber looked slightly worried. He didn’t know what was said and was a little afraid to ask. He sat down next to Risto and started to undo the laces on his shoes. Now wasn’t the time to worry about what they discussed. He had to focus on the game.

 

***

Sam climbed into the car, after signing some autographs for fans, and started to undo his tie. Even years after wearing them for every game, he still hated them. Jack followed suit and hopped into the car. He whooped a bit and then put the car into gear and took off like a bat of hell.

 

“A WIN BABY!!” Jack screamed over the music in the car.

Sam let out the breath he didn’t know he was holding.

Jack was slightly manic once they got home, grabbing Sam and hugging him, and then running around the house dancing. Sam gently reminded him that they had an appointment the next day and Jack danced his way into bed.

 

“It’s going to be so good. We’re going to be so good”

“Yeah, Jack, we’ll be good”  
Sam was saying it to convince himself mostly.

 

***

 

When Sam woke up and rolled over, he saw Jack still curled up snoring. His curls were a mess and Sam resisted the urge to reach over and brush them back. Instead he got up and started to make himself a bowl of cereal for breakfast. As he was pouring the milk into the bowl, he heard Jack meander into the kitchen.

 

“We have that appointment soon, right?” Jack looked exhausted. All of the manic behavior the night before must have gotten to him and he crashed hard.

 

“Yeah, in an hour.” Jack ran his fingers through his curls and left the kitchen to get dressed.

They both got dressed quietly, not sure what to say before heading into a therapy appointment. When they got there, they did the paperwork quietly and Jack pulled the receptionist aside to ask if they could be called back at different times. She agreed and one by one they were called back.

When they were both in the room, the therapist sat in an overstuffed brown leather chair. She had long blond hair, was heavyset, and wore a kind smile.

 

“We’ll start by getting some background information and then get into the nitty gritty. I have you for a couple of hours so take your time with what you want to say. Whatever you say here stays here, so no worries about the media or anything like that.” She smiled again and handed over a worksheet for them to each fill out. It was a thing about the language of love and Sam felt it was a bit much right away, but filled it out anyway.

She read over the responses from both of them and then started to question them on what they felt was wrong.

 

“I lose my temper too much and Sammy is the one I direct it at because he’s there. I don’t mean to, but I can’t control it sometimes.” 

She looked at Sam and nodded.

 

“I’m sick of being a verbal punching bag. I love him, but it feels like he forgets that I need him more than the city needs a hero.”

She jotted something down on her notepad while mumbling.

 

“So you want to work on your anger issues” She pointed at Jack with a soft smile.

 

“And you want to work on being able to support him when he’s at his worst? Or is there something else there?”

Sam pondered what she said for a second and then nodded.

 

“Yeah, I want to be supportive but not a doormat”

The therapist nodded and got up to grab some papers from a file folder on a shelf behind her desk.

 

“Look over these two as a couple and fill them out. Each of you have a different way you express love and want love expressed to you. Samson, you like words of affirmation, so hearing him say nasty things to you hurts you the most. Jack, you like acts of service, and you feel that Samson not fighting for a spot to be with you means he’s not doing enough.”

Jack and Sam were both stunned that the therapist figured that out from the worksheet answers.

 

“I don’t think we can address the anger management piece of it in a couples setting. I’d like you to see a sports psychologist. I have a colleague that I can recommend if you want his number?”

Jack nodded, realizing that this was the best solution. Sam sat there stunned. He thought that Jack was going to need to be dragged into everything. He must really want to change for the better.

 

“And Samson, I want you to still come here with Jack to work on some couples therapy. I see rifts forming, but there’s a ton of love there and I can make that work for you guys. Does that sound like a plan?”

The two agreed that it was a good plan. They set up the next appointment for a week later and Jack jotted down the number of the sports psychologist.  
When they got into the car, Jack reached over and just held Sam, shaking.

 

“I didn’t know I was hurting you this much. I want to make it better. I want to _be_ better.”

Sam started to cry. This was overwhelming, but it was what they needed to do.

 

“We’ll be better. I promise that.”

That time, it felt like a real promise.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey hun, I hope you like this. I took the obvious eichart song and just went with it. You said no fluff so obviously I go angst. ♥
> 
>  
> 
> Comments and kudos are always welcomed, as well as some feedback. 
> 
> Come join me on my [ tumblr!](https://scandella.tumblr.com/)


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